Something good and right and real - Chapter 11

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Chapter 11: King of my heart, body and soul

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Oriana hadn't thought that it was going to feel like this.

She hadn't.

(But then, she had never been mated before, so what did she have to draw a comparison? Her wedding night at 19, when she had been filled with more trepidation than anything else?)

She only knew that her whole life narrowed to Azriel, onto that moment in the middle of their living room.

And then they met in a clash of lips and tongue, his knife clattering to the floor and she just hoped that the blueberries weren't going to stain anything important because...

That was the last thought she had.

The last thought as Azriel lifted her in his arms and somehow managed to get them into their bedroom without running into any walls.

Oriana wasn't a big help, she knew that.

Oriana's hands uselessly clawed at his shirt as he kissed her, his tongue pressing against the roof of her mind, arousal punching through her so harshly and suddenly that her knees grew weak.

She managed to pull her head back enough to gasp for breath before she fainted from lack of air. "You know I bought lingerie just for you," she managed to blurt out.

Pretty lingerie, too. In cobalt blue.

She had thought that he would like that.

And really, who was she to refuse him anything?

"Later," Azriel growled and that sound was enough to make her shiver. And then he had his mouth on her again and she didn't really think anymore.

Finally, he pulled back, a broad, scarred hand cupping her cheek, leaning his forehead against his. "How do you want me?" he asked her, his voice hoarse.

"I don't care," she breathed. "I don't care. I just want to have you." In whatever way she could get away with. Whatever he wanted.

His hands went to the back of her dress and she turned in his arms, letting him open the laces that kept it closed. She kicked off her shoes at the same time, as he bunched up the dress and pulled it over her head.

A pained noise escaped him, as he reached out to her back. She froze as she felt his fingers touch her right lower back, the exit wound of when the sword had pinned her to the floor.

It had entered her front lower belly at an angle, slicing through her near diagonally. Thankfully not severing her spinal cord, but gone straight through her womb and intestines.

If it hadn't been for Enya...

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, touching the scar, nearly painfully soft.

Her heart constricted at it. The way he touched her with so much care, always terrified that he did something that was going to make her run from him...

She wondered if he was ever going to believe in her love for him. If he was ever going to trust in her the way she trusted in him.

She didn't know when, but someday, his scarred hands had started to give Oriana more safety than anything else in her life. She had started to trust in him, in his unassuming presence, the steadfast calm of him.

So when she leant back against him, she did that with the full trust that he would take her weight.

"You won't," Oriana promised. He wouldn't hurt her. She didn't think he had that in him. And still, she wanted him to feel safe with her, safe in the knowledge that if he did something, something that was too much for her to take, that she would tell him.

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